Chapter 3: A Long Walk

"You weren't kidding when you told me to be ready for a long walk," Kim observed to her boyfriend. "But you didn't tell me how much of it would be vertical."

"Secrets, KP, you know the deal," Ron tried to mollify her. "But you have to admit, the view's worth it."

Kim looked down the trail and was forced to agree. The panorama was stunning. Gazing at the view, she reached out and caught her BFBF's hand. In the past, she would have talked about the view with him. Now that they were a couple it seemed more appropriate to just hold hands and drink in the view. Ron caused her a moment of concern when he dropped her hand, but when his arm settled around her shoulders, she decided that the embrace was even more appropriate. Her arm went around his waist, pulling him even more securely to her.

"This is nice, KP," Ron said, after several minutes of pleasant contemplation. "But we better get moving again. I don't think we want to be out on the trail after dark."

"Stoppable-san's suggestion is most wise, Possible-san," Yori chimed in, from where she had stepped back to give the couple some privacy. "The paths can be treacherous after the sun sets."

Kim looked up and judged them to have roughly two more hours until sundown. As she turned to continue up the trail, reluctantly dropping her arm from around Ron, she noticed the cuts healing on his scalp.

"Yori," she frowned. "Can we speak openly on the trail?"

"Yes, Possible-san," their guide assured her. "We are quite isolated."

"Ron," she addressed her boyfriend while nodding her thanks to Yori. "Why aren't you using your healing meditation on your scalp wound? For that matter, why didn't you use it on your hip injury after we beat Monty back in Yuma?"

"I didn't use it on my hip injury because Sensei hadn't taught me the technique at that time," Ron answered, gesturing for Kim to precede him on the narrow trail. "And I haven't used it on this wound because the reason Sensei taught me the skill doesn't apply."

"I don't understand," Kim confessed over her shoulder, as she followed Yori.

"Sensei taught me how to speed up my healing because I was in danger," Ron explained. "Monty had vanished and my injuries kept me from defending myself or running away. By accelerating my healing, I took the chance that someone might get suspicious and start to wonder why I was healing so fast. Sensei decided that the risk of exposing Yamanouchi was worth it to keep me from being helpless if Monty attacked me."

"So why didn't he teach you the technique back when Monty injured your hip?" She asked.

"He hasn't explained and I haven't asked him, but I'll make a guess," Ron mused. "Monty was wounded at the same time, so Sensei probably knew that he was unlikely to make any sort of move against me until he healed up, as well."

"But if you had healed up, you might have placed in that tournament." Kim pointed out.

"Yeah, but placing in a tournament wouldn't be worth the risk of exposing Yamanouchi," Ron countered. "I wasn't in danger at the time."

"And you're not in danger now?" Kim prompted.

"Exactly," Ron confirmed. "First of all, my scalp wound hurts but it doesn't affect my ability to fight or run. Secondly, Monty is now imprisoned and he's the only supervillain who has it in for me. None of the others can even remember my name."

"Ron, I know that's a sore spot…" Kim began to console her boyfriend, only to have Ron interrupt.

"It used to be a sore spot for me," he explained. "But I've learned that it gives me an advantage."

"How's that?" Kim wondered.

"Being underestimated," he clarified. "Think about the Diablo Incident. Drakken spent months finding your aching heel…"

"Achilles heel," Kim corrected.

"That too," Ron continued. "Anyway, he spent months finding a way to take you out of the game. Now, I'm flattered that he even bothered to try to deal with me, but the fact is that he didn't bother to plan for me. He just copied his plan for you, altered the gender, and unleashed it on me."

Ron could tell by the set of Kim's shoulders that she was getting upset. While the way she had shunted him aside when Eric showed up still irritated him, it absolutely devastated her. Ron was still determined to make his point, but he went into damage control mode to do so.

"If he had bothered to research me at all," Ron concluded. "He would have realized that he would have only needed to arrange for me to receive the entire Zombie Mayhem series and a high speed computer. That would have taken me out of the picture for months. Instead, he underestimated me and let me help bring him down. That's why I don't mind being overlooked by the villain community."

"You really are some piece of work," Kim replied, happy that he couldn't see how moist her eyes had become. "You know, even with your bad experience with that sleaze-reporter, a lot of guys would have still fallen for Syntho-902."

"That's another thing that Drakken didn't take into account," Ron explained. "I'd spent over two years as the Middleton High Mascot, which meant that I'd spent a lot of time around cheerleaders, the prettiest girls in the school. Throw in the fact that my best friend was a drop dead gorgeous redhead and you can see why a hottie didn't affect me as much as most guys my age."

"Oh, you think I'm pretty?" Kim glanced over her shoulder.

"The proper term is beautiful," Ron corrected. "I'm not insisting you go ahead of me on the uphill strictly because of manners, you know." A grin broke out on his face after he said this.

Kim couldn't help but laugh at that. At the same time she was glad that Ron couldn't see the smile that she just couldn't keep off of her face. She had a momentary concern that he was just attracted to her body, much like she had been attracted to Syntho-901. Then she thought it through.

It's fine, she decided. That young man fell for you, the whole package. This is no shallow infatuation. He knows you thoroughly, and loves you for you. The fact that he thinks you're hot is just icing on the cake.

"Getting back to the original topic," she broke the current line of thought. "Any other reasons that you aren't speeding up healing your scalp wound?"

"Yeah, the wound is really visible. Say some photographer took a picture of you and caught my face as well. Everyone would have seen the cut. Then say another photographer caught me a week later. A whole lot of people would have seen how quickly it healed. With my internal injuries, only the Medical Center's staff knew the details and they aren't talking. Doctor patient confidentiality and all that."

"So some pain is worth keeping Yamanouchi secret?"

"It is to me." Ron stressed.

"Speaking of Yamanouchi," she moved to another topic. "There has to be more to their involvement than the fact that you have…access to the MMP. I mean, arranging to have these cultural exchanges and keeping Monty under surveillance has to be costly in terms of money and manpower. They have to be expecting some return on their investment. What are they expecting from you?"

She noticed that Yori had tensed a little. Ron paused before he answered.

"I don't pretend to know everything," he confessed. "I'm sure that there's a lot more to Yamanouchi, and to what they expect of me, than I know. What I do know, I've been forbidden to tell. I'm assuming that Sensei has invited you here so that he can reveal what he feels is appropriate. That's part of the reason that I'm so glad you're here with me this time."

"You know I don't like secrets," Kim countered, looking over her shoulder again.

"I know KP, but these secrets aren't my secrets to tell," Ron answered. "I'll gladly tell you anything and everything that Sensei allows me to, but this is a whole lot bigger than me."

Much to her own surprise, Kim found that she could accept that. She could tell that Yori had also relaxed. Further questions were curtailed by the combination of high altitude, steep path, and vigorous pace set by their guide. Even fit teens from the Colorado foothills were feeling the strain. After another half-hour of hard walking, the three teens passed under a waterfall and through a tunnel. Just ahead of them, a rope bridge spanned a deep gorge. Beyond the gorge, the path wound up one final hill and passed through an ornate gate.

"Yamanouchi?" Kim asked.

"Yes," both of her companions responded, but neither thought to call the jinx.

"We have arrived on time," Yori announced. "The ceremony shall take place at sundown."

"Ceremony?" Kim and Ron asked at the same time. Again, neither called the jinx.

"The wedding ceremony," Yori explained.

"Who's getting married?" Ron asked.

"You are, Stoppable-san," Yori answered.

"Wha…I…but…who?" Ron remained as articulate as ever.

"Ron?" Kim's growling question jolted her BFBF out of his brain-lock.

"I didn't know anything about this!" Ron's voice had risen an octave. "I swear, I didn't know we were going to get…"

"The two of you are not to be married," Yori interrupted. "Stoppable-san shall marry a descendant of our school's founder."

"What? Why? How? When?" It clearly wasn't the lack of oxygen at this high altitude that had Ron somewhat lightheaded.

"For thousands of years, his descendants have attended his school, and have had access to the Mystical Monkey Power," Yori explained. "Although their mastery was somewhat limited. By joining this line with Stoppable-san, Sensei hopes to bring great power and honor to Yamanouchi." She turned to look directly at Ron. "The heavens are in perfect alignment for this purpose. The child that you and she beget this night shall become the greatest wielder of the Mystical Monkey Power in all eternity."

"Wha…." Ron's eyes were larger than dinner plates. He looked back down the trail, tensing up to run all the way back to Tokyo.

"So that's it?" Kim demanded. "You don't even tell us? You just drag us up here and spring this on us at the last moment? What is the meaning of all this?"

"It would appear," Yori explained. "That I have mastered the skill of the American style deadpan joke."

"WHAT?" Again, Kim and Ron asked together and again, neither thought to call the jinx.

"Hirotaka-san was correct," Yori giggled, covering her mouth with one hand. "Tell a Caucasian anything dealing with mysticism, and the Caucasian will think that you believe it."

"You…mean…no…wedding…no…baby?" Ron's eyes weren't quite as wide, but he still looked like he was ready to bolt.

"No, Stoppable-san," Yori was struggling with her laughter. "There is no ceremony awaiting either of you this evening, only a short, informal meeting with Sensei. He is most anxious to greet the two of you."

"So," Kim grated out, although she did have a bit of a smile on her face. "Since you folks don't intend on breeding my boyfriend, what are we going to be doing?"

"Sensei will tell you the full story," Yori explained, still smiling. "But I will say that he wishes to assist Stoppable-san attune himself with the Mystical Monkey Power and assist both of you with training and teamwork."

"That, I can accept," Kim agreed, shaking her head but smiling. "You got both of us good."

"No…wife…no…baby?" Ron continued to babble.

"Come, Possible-san," Yori offered, catching one of Ron's arms. "Let's get him inside. I will show you to your rooms and the two of you can bathe and eat before meeting with Sensei. Perhaps some of Sensei's green tea will calm your boyfriend enough for the two of you to…how do you say…do some necking, before you retire for the night."

"YORI!" Kim rolled her eyes as she took Ron's other arm. The two girls led the still shellshocked Ron Stoppable onto the Yamanouchi Grounds. While Kim wouldn't admit it out loud, she was hoping that Ron would eventually calm down, and for the exact reason Yori had suggested.

"These will be your facilities if you choose to accept my offer." The synthesized voice didn't have inflections, but DNAmy knew that it the speaker was trying to convince her to stay.

"I'll need to bring in more specialized equipment," she answered. "But the general equipment, the facility, and the utilities are more than enough. I accept your offer."

The withered figure in the motorized wheelchair couldn't even nod his approval. Only his eyes and the wheelchair itself were under his mind's control. There was a pause while he used his eyes, which were being scanned by a powerful computer, to program his response.

"Exactly as we discussed," the voice came from the speech synthesizer. "Question…You have a list of such resources you will require to proceed…question." The lack of inflection meant that he had to actually inform his listener that he was asking a question in order to be sure of receiving a response.

"I gave it to your assistant earlier today," Amy assured her newest employer. "Along with the channels he can use to obtain them, secretly. I assume that you prefer this project to take longer in order to maintain secrecy?"

"Correct," he responded after the necessary pause. "Question…Do you find the offered payment acceptable…question."

"Now that we have reached an agreement, I find the payment generous," she frowned slightly. "Also, I did say that I wouldn't be able to give you a timeline on results. I will work as fast as I can but we are breaking new ground here."

"I remember," the voice assured her. "I agree that safety and secrecy override speed. I have dealt with researchers before and know that scientific breakthroughs cannot be scheduled. I will have experts reviewing your progress reports but I have no doubt that they will tell me that you are not dragging your feet. I have lived for thirty-eight years in this shell I call a body. Now that I have hope of a healthy body I can wait a few more years. Question…now that we are in agreement, when can you begin…Question."

"I intend to start my preliminary work as soon as I reach my console," she informed her employer. "About twenty-four seconds after you give me the go to start."

"Then I shall leave you to your work", his lips, although not under his full control, twitched in what could be considered amusement. "You have a direct communication channel to me, personally, over your console. Inform me of any requirements as soon as you experience them."

With that said, the man spun his chair around and out of the lab, leaving Amy alone with her research. She was very happy and would soon be even happier. Amy walked to her console and called up several files she had previously given to her employer's technicians, for loading into the mainframe. First, she called up medical information on her employer and started a contrasting program to determine his genetic ideal. After she determined his genetic ideal, she would contrast this ideal against his anatomic reality. Even the supercomputer would take hours to finish the summary, which gave her time to start on her personal work, part of her payment.

"First I'll need burrowing capability," she mused out loud. "Preferably mammalian." She reviewed the genetic samples available in the laboratory's extensive vaults. "Let's see; badger, prairie dog, mole, and kangaroo rat. Then I need mass, strength and endurance, but not too large; black bear, wolf, antelope. Okay, now lets start the virtual splicing program."

With that, DNAmy started to simulate splicing genes too get the characteristics she wanted. It would take time, but she was doing something she enjoyed and she was being paid to do it. Soon the real work would begin, after the gene mixers, bio-isolators, and other specialized equipment showed up. She knew she would have to fabricate many of the specialized items right here, but she didn't' mind. She would give her employer what he wanted, more than what he wanted, and she would soon have him back with her once again. She activated a tracing program so that she could locate him when she was ready.

"You know, you don't have to do this." Oscar's father informed him. The two men had just returned to their modest home after a hard day of work.

"The pay's better than at Randall's Stables," Oscar pointed out. "And we can use the money. I've only got two more summers before college."

At this, the elder Mr. Williamsen beamed with pride. He had never had the opportunity to attend high school and his son was determined to attend college.

"Besides," Oscar continued. "We're working four, ten hour days a week. That gives me just enough time to get in one good workout each day, one day a week to keep up the house, and the weekends to myself."

"It's awful hard work," Mr. Williamsen reminded his son. "Being a summer intern to an earthmoving company isn't easy. I'd hoped that you'd have an easier life than me."

"I've got an easier life than you did," his son countered. "I'm hoping that some hard work now will make it even better."

"So you have a plan?" The father asked, taking a seat at the kitchen table. It was his son's turn to do the cooking.

"Kind of," Oscar admitted, putting a large skillet on the stove. He started it heating, put some grease in it, then pulled a chicken out of the refrigerator.

"Let's hear it," his father prompted.

"Okay, here's my back up plan," Oscar cut up the chicken while speaking, putting the parts in the skillet to cook. "I work this summer and next summer as an intern with Mickman's. I save my money, keep my grades up and go to college to get a Civil Engineering degree. I work every summer with Mickman's, so at the end of it I'll have a degree and some practical experience."

"Sounds good," his father approved. "We should be able to get a loan or two and get you through." He leaned back in his chair. "If that's your back up plan, what's your first plan?"

"The same, except for one thing," Oscar was now peeling potatoes. "I keep out of trouble and I place high at the State Tournament. I get a wrestling scholarship and that takes care of some of the money."

"Do you really think you can pull a scholarship?"

"A recruiter from Iowa State talked to me at last year's tournament," Oscar explained. "Once he found out I was a junior, he said that he couldn't talk to me any more. If I can place high again, I should be able to swing one. Wrestling scholarships aren't as sweet as football or basketball scholarships, but every bit helps." He finished peeling potatoes and put them in a pot to boil.

"How about your girlfriend, Cindy?" His dad asked.

"What about her?"

"Are the two of you going to be able to go to the same school?" Mr. Williamsen was watching his son closely.

"We've talked about it a little," Oscar admitted. "We would like to, but we're both more interested in our education than going to the same school. She wants to go to the University of Colorado and study journalism. If I can get a scholarship there, I'll go as well. If not, I'll follow any scholarship and we'll try the long-distance thing. If it doesn't work out, it just happens."

"I'm proud of both of you there," his father pointed out. "I've said it before, but both of you are pretty young to be thinking of a future together. You're doing the right thing, planning for your careers. If you can stay together, great." He paused a moment. "You sound pretty confident about getting accepted by a good college."

"It shouldn't be a problem," his son explained. "I get B's in all of my classes except Math and Science. I'm all A's in those. I checked and I easily make the academic standards. I checked with the guidance counselor and she says that my grades, combined with being active in football, wrestling, track, and band should make me a shoe-in for just about any university around here."

"Just don't get overconfident," his father warned. "You've really done well, and you've got a good plan. Just don't screw it up in your senior year."

"I don't intend to, dad. That's another good thing about this job. It cuts down on my chances to get into trouble. I'm busy at work four days a week and busy at home one day a week. That only gives me two days free each week."

"You've never been prone to get in trouble," Mr. Williamsen smiled at his son. "All I'm saying is to not start now. By the way, who's that guy you've been meeting with every Friday?"

"He's a legal representative from Global Justice," Oscar explained. "When that Drakken guy goes on trial, Cindy and I are going to wind up on the witness stand at some point. I'm sure we're going to wind up there when Ed Lipsky and that monkey guy go to trial as well. The legal guy's just trying to get us ready."

"He's telling you what to say?" Mr. Williamsen's tone was carefully neutral.

"No, and he's really stressing that," Oscar answered. "He's being a real jerk, trying to get me and Cindy to contradict ourselves and lose our temper. He isn't a bad guy, he just says that the defense attorneys will try to rattle us. He wants us to keep our cool and keep our stories straight, even under pressure."

"How does he try to get you to lose your temper?"

"He makes raunchy allegations about what Cindy and I did that night in the forest, for one thing," Oscar's jaw clenched at the thought. "Again, he doesn't think that of us, but he says that Drakken's attorneys will try to get us mad so we lose our tempers and become less credible. He's also grilling us on the events at the make up prom."

"Well, do any of his allegations come close?"

"No," Oscar did a very good job of controlling his temper. "It's not that Cindy and I haven't had our chances. We've talked about it and we've decided that we aren't ready for the possible consequences if we do."

"That's good," his father approved. "I'm not quite ready to be a grandfather yet."

"That's not the only consequence," Oscar's voice had grown grim. "There's also the fact that some of the kids at school, and their parents, think that Cindy's slumming by dating me."

The older Williamsen didn't need to say a thing, he just looked steadily at his son.

"Most of the kids and most of the parents are fine with me," Oscar explained. "But some of them really resent me. I'm this lower class kid from a spot on the map town out in the middle nowhere! Most of the residents around here are kind of upscale, a lot of them are proud of how many generations they've lived in this town, and some of them don't like the fact that I'm in their school. Then I don't act like I'm supposed to; I'm not supposed to get better grades in chemistry, algebra and trigonometry than the privileged kids do. I'm not supposed to be a better safety or fullback on the football field than the privileged boys are. I'm not supposed to be a varsity wrestler, much less the school's first state champion. I'm not supposed to be dating one of the prettiest, most popular girls in the school."

"Then when I succeed, I'm still not doing what I'm supposed to," he continued in a calmer tone, after catching his breath. "I'm supposed to get a letter jacket and lord it over the nerds and geeks, not play tuba in the school band. I'm supposed to dress up in the latest fashions and hang around the mall, not put on an old pair of jeans and go fishing with Ron and Felix. I'm supposed to talk about all the wild, carnal things I'm doing with my girlfriend, not play piano for the church's children's program."

"A lot of kids are giving you grief?"

"Nine out of ten are absolutely fine," Oscar informed his father. "But a few of them really like to put everyone down."

"That Rockwaller girl?" His father asked him.

"She's not the only one," Oscar told him. "She's just the worst one. She really backed off of Ron after that thing with Drakken went down on prom night. She even gave me some slack for about a week, as well. She doesn't mess with me anymore, but she keeps heckling Cindy to find herself a better looking, Middleton-born boyfriend who drives a better car."

"I wish we could afford a better car," Mr. Williamsen said, sadly.

"That's not important, dad," Oscar protested. "I really shouldn't let it get to me. I can handle all the crap she and her posse dump on me, but it really burns me when they go after Cindy. That's why I'm really being a Boy Scout with Cindy. There's a small posse of snobs, kids and parents, that would just love to exaggerate some story about the two of us."

"Just don't let anyone push you into doing something stupid."

"I won't, dad."

Soon, dinner was ready. The two Williamsen men weren't imaginative cooks, but they could put a simple, solid meal on the table. They quickly ate their meal of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and canned vegetables. Mr. Williamsen washed the dishes (whoever did the cooking didn't have to do the dishes) while Oscar packed their lunches for the next day. Afterwards, Mr. Williamsen went to the garage to work on the lawn mower while Oscar did his evening workout. Except for their discussion, it was a typical day for the two.